


By Candelight

by amutemockingjay



Series: Crash and Burn Girl [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A Winter's Ball, Alexander is too good at this, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Candlelight, Dreams, Eliza is so innocent, F/M, I tried to write smut y'all, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amutemockingjay/pseuds/amutemockingjay
Summary: Alexander comes to her in her dreams.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't written smut in literal YEARS so I am completely out of practice and open to any sort of constructive criticism. But this one of my bingo cards for the fanfic bingo I'm doing with some writer friends. The prompt was "oral sex." This takes place in the Shatter Me universe, but you don't have to have read Shatter Me in order to get this because it's basically porn without plot. Anyway, let me know what you think in the comments, and you can always come find me on Tumblr @piecesofkessa

He came to Eliza in a dream.

 In a silver room ringed with candlelight, a whirl of colors and shapes that she could barely make out in her altered state. She could feel the rustle of silk in her hands; she looked down, she was dressed in a heavy dress of watered silk, in her favorite color, aquamarine. White slippers adorned her feet, and she could hardly breathe for the corset laced tight. She blinked and adjusted to where she was, this new world.

The room was crowded with figures dancing; she stood in the center, dazzled by it all. She wasn’t the type to be in the spotlight, anyway. She could sense, rather than hear his footsteps behind her, his hand encircled her waist.

“Eliza.” His breath was a whisper on her neck, and she could feel desire well up inside her.

“Alexander.”

 His dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he wore full military dress, something out of the pages of a history book. She swallowed. She wished she could find the words to describe how becoming it was on him.

He was close enough as to be improper, and when he pressed up against her, she could feel his hardness. She found herself sighing with longing.

“I want to take you far from this place,” he whispered in her ear.

“Please.” She couldn’t hide the pleading in her voice.

He took her hand, and lead her out of the ballroom, through the gilded doors and into a hallway, dim, lit only with flickering candles.

Quick as you please, he had her up against the wall, his lips on the tender spot at her collarbone.

“My Eliza,” he says. “I’ve longed to get you alone for so long.” His hands move from her waist towards her breasts.

“Now that you have me, what do you intend to do with me?” Her voice is light, teasing.

His hands are on the buttons on the back of her dress. “Get rid of this, to start.”

“But Alexander, I’ll be indecent.”

“That’s exactly how I want you.” The dress pools at her ankles, and she steps out of it. She’s left only in a white shift and a corset. He takes her in, limbs trembling with pent-up lust, rosebud mouth so very kissable.

“My God, Eliza,” he murmurs. “If only you know what you do to me.”

She reaches for his jacket, pulls off the indigo wool. “Show me,” she says, pressing her lips against his.

His hands are on the back of her corset, unlacing it expertly. The heavy cloth falls to the ground, and she can breathe again. He cups her breast; she can feel his thumb and forefinger through the thin cotton cloth, tracing circles around her nipple.

There is a sharp intake of breath; her skin burns where he touches her. She leans into him and kisses him again, she can never get enough of his kiss, of the lightness of skin against skin.

“You’re far too dressed for this,” she says, unbuttoning his vest, his shirt.

She knows she shouldn’t be going this far, so quickly. But she loves him—she loves him, she loves him, she loves him, something she will never admit when she’s awake. And how she wants him.

He begins kissing her neck, his hands at her back. How he knows—she doesn’t know how he knows—that her back is her sweet spot, the feeling of his nails trailing lightly against her skin is enough to leave her weak at the knees, sighs of longing at her lips. He nibbles her earlobe and she cries out with desire and pleasure, the flame of it kindling deep in her soul.

She can feel herself trembling with lust, lust that steals her breath away, that has her lose her sense of time and place completely. All she can sense, all she can know, is Alexander. Alexander’s hands underneath her shift, running up and down her thighs. She feels him part her legs a little, his hand reaching out to touch her.

The second his hand makes contact with her, she cries out, the sound echoing in the hallway. One touch from him and she’ll be gone, she knows this.

“Fuck, Eliza,” he breathes, “You’re so wet for me.”

She’s so overcome that all she can do is nod, a small whine escape from her lips.

“You need me, don’t you,” he continues, finger on her clit. “You need me so badly, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she manages to gasp. “Yes, please, Alexander—“

He removes his hand from her and she bucks her hips, displeased.

He laughs softly. “Be patient, my Eliza.”

And normally she is, normally she can wait for anything. But this—him—her desire is so strong that it takes everything she has to keep herself from having him right then and there.

He pushes up her shift past her hips; she grips onto the white cotton and lace, as he presses kisses down her thighs.

“I want to make you come, Eliza. I want to make you come so many times that you don’t know where you are, the only thing you know is me, fucking you with my mouth.”

“Already there,” she gasps, desperate and hungry and needy, so goddamn needy for him.

“Good,” he says. He gently pushes her legs apart, and presses his tongue against her slit, tasting, testing.

That first contact is enough to send her over the edge. “Alexander,” she cries out.

“I love it when you say my name with lust in your voice.”  He stops, ever so briefly, and she voices her objection.

He’s right. She can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel, his tongue on her clit. She’s never gone this far with a boy before, never wanted someone the way she’s wanting one Alexander Hamilton, the lust almost too much to process. When he slips two fingers inside her, she loses it completely, and comes, head tilting back, a cry of pleasure escaping far louder than she ever intended it to.

“My Alexander,” She grabs onto his hair, encouraging him, and returns to task with renewed vigor.

Everything slips into bits and pieces, fragments of memories, of senses. Of the feeling of his hair underneath her fingers. Of the scent of sex, of the desire that pounds in her veins, that brings her even closer to completion. Of his fingers, slick with the wetness of her, pushing deeper inside her, until she comes around them, and finds herself back on Earth, back to this moment in time with Alexander. She almost sinks to the floor, the feeling is so powerful.

“Alexander,” she says, “I need you inside me. Now.”

He presses a trail of kisses to her inner thigh. She doesn’t know how she regains her sense of place, of being, of using her own legs. But she reaches for his breeches, feels him responding to her touch. He is rock-hard and ready for her, and a moan escapes his lips as she runs her hand around his length.

“My turn,” she says with a devilish grin. She presses herself against him, teasing him at her entrance, enough to make him whine, completely given over to desire.

She’s ready, so ready for him, and he’s right there, about to push into her and give her everything—

A knocking sound, loud and insistent, raps into her consciousness. The scene, the hallway, Alexander panting with lust—it all fades as Eliza bolts upright.

Sheets tangled around her knees, a cold dose of reality brings her out of her dream. The walls are antiseptic white, not red brocade. In the next bed, Theodosia buries her head into her pillow.

A sigh escapes Eliza’s lips, and she clamps her legs shut together, embarrassed by the desire that still throbs in time to her pulse, of the slickness between her thighs. She has to force herself to breathe normally, and not think of Alexander.

“Eliza, honey, time to get your vitals.” A nurse pokes her head into the hospital room she shares with Theodosia.

Eliza doesn’t trust herself to get up. She doesn’t trust that she can face Alexander at breakfast, the rawness of his touch still lingering on her skin. Even if it’s all in her head. Even if it haunts her dreams.

She just wishes, with every part of her heart, that it would be more than just a dream.


End file.
